


love with complications (memory is a funny thing)

by thewoundupbird



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, amnesia au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 11:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2731379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewoundupbird/pseuds/thewoundupbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla comes back to Laura after the battle against the Dean.  But she can't seem to remember who she is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love with complications (memory is a funny thing)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simplysweetperfection (tinydemons)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydemons/gifts).



> Thank you Alex for being so supportive and encouraging about this fic. I hope it met your expectations :)

When Danny brings her in, limp and pale and so so dead, you lose yourself.  You don’t even realize you are clutching the carton of blood in your hand, rambling about what Carmilla  _needs_ until the sticky liquid is dribbling out of the corner of her mouth and staining the fabric of your sheets.  Your hands are shaking and you hear Danny and Perry saying things behind you but all you really know is the brownness of Carmilla’s eyes as they open.  A sob bubbles from your throat and you dimly realize the carton has been snatched from your shaking fingers as you tightly wrap your arms around Carmilla’s shoulders.  

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” you breathe wretchedly into her shoulder, grimy from dirt and smelling of sulfur.  And suddenly you are shoved away.  Maybe it’s Danny who catches you as you are nearly flung off the bed.  As you stumble to regain your footing you gaze confusedly at Carmilla whose head is ducked, bangs hiding her eyes.  The smooth line of her jaw is clenched  and the usually languid line of her shoulders is rigid.  

“C-carm?”

And the other girl slowly raises her head and the hope that had bloomed within your chest withers.  Because her eyes are dark with fear and a clear lack of recognition.  

“Who are you?” she rasps in a lilting voice sharpened with disuse.  Your hands come to your mouth as your eyes widen in horror.  Danny’s hands on your shoulder tighten and Perry gasps.  

“Who are you?” 

 

 

_////////_

 

 

Lafontaine will make a good doctor you think as they gently raise their hands in front of them, approaching Carmilla slowly like she’s a feral cat.  And perhaps she is with the way she is sitting on your bed, tense and eyes flicking this way and that, tracking the movements of the room.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to gather the rest of the gang to see Carmilla.  But you hadn’t thought to protest as you practically collapsed onto Betty- _Carmilla’s_ bed, staring at the girl who painfully thinks you are a stranger.  It had burned, the way her eyes took you in with nothing but distrust and confusion.  It’s like infinity in there, you think as those eyes flick toward you again as Lafontaine slowly drops to their knees in front of the bed.  What must it be like to have experienced several lifetimes but not remember a thing, you wonder.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” they murmur gently, a far cry from the person who had brandished a frighteningly long needle for “bio samples.” Carmilla says nothing.  She just sits on your bed, eyes peeking out between her knees as her grip on her legs tighten.  Something aches in you as you recognize the look.  It is nearly identical to her face when you had been possessed by her mother and she had stared with melancholic resignation.

When Lafontaine reaches a hand forward and barely brushes Carmilla’s knee, the other girl flinches and her back hits the wall in an instant.  The impact causes bits of plaster to explode from behind her and the noise makes Carmilla shrink even more into herself as white powder clings to her dark hair.  Your mind suddenly goes to the time you had both walked outside at some ungodly hour because it was one in the morning and the laundry room in the basement was clearly not safe by yourself.  It had snowed as you had stepped outside and Carmilla had laughed unguardedly as she tossed her snow flecked hair over her shoulder and looked at you with a smile.  

She does not smile nor does she laugh as those haunted eyes squeeze shut and her hands  _tremble_.

“P-please do not touch me,” she whispers slowly, her voice low and pained.  

Lafontaine nods and drops their hands to the edge of the bedspread.

“Of course.  I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

Carmilla’s shoulders unstiffen a little bit.

“Do you remember your name?” they ask.  It feels like the entire room is holding a breath.  

“…no.”  Carmilla hides her eyes behind her bangs and she looks so incredibly young.

“Okay.  Do you remember what happened before you went… unconscious?”

“No.”

“Do you-“

“I don’t remember anything,” Carmilla grits out.  And you cannot help the watery sound that comes from your throat.  You muffle the noise with the back of your hand and clumsily get off your bed and rush to the door.  The door knob feels slick in your fingers and you feel her eyes on you the whole time as you blindly rush out of the room.  

You had wondered whether it would have been a good thing for Carmilla to have a clean slate and be washed of the pain and guilt she had suffered over the years.  But not like this.   _Never like this._

 

 

_////////_

 

 

Lafontaine tells you that besides a few minor scrapes and bruises, Carmilla is in top notch shape.  Physically.

“Obviously we don’t have any access to CAT scans or MRI technology here so we couldn’t really see what’s going on in her brain neurologically.  But it seems to be a severe form of retrograde amnesia.  She knows she’s a vampire and she seems to have retained her knack for languages and broody philosophical-ness but she doesn’t remember her life.  God she must have hit her head incredibly hard to have lost nearly 400 years of memory in an-”  You flinch and they come to an awkward halt.  You’re in the hallway and you know you have to keep it together and pretend like nothing is wrong but when you glance at your dorm door your stomach painfully twists into knots.

“Should I stay in the room or give her space?  She… doesn’t seem so open to seeing people.”

“It may be better for her memory to be around you, Laura.  Since you were roommates and all. It might trigger something.”

You nod as you cross your arms over your chest.  At least you can physically hold yourself together as everything seems to be falling apart.  

“At least she’s alive,” you say more to yourself than to Lafontaine.  “She survived.”

“Yeah it seems like it would take more than hell to kill, Carmilla.”

Your lips pull up a little at the corners.

 

 

//////

 

 

She says nothing when you come back into the room alone.  Betty had agreed to stay in Danny’s room until everything was back to “normal.”  She had given you a pointed glare as she packed up her things and made Danny sling her bag over her shoulder.  You had exchanged an apologetic smile with the taller girl as she trailed dejectedly behind Betty.  You watch as the door gently closes shut and then it is just the two of you.  No one will unexpectedly barge in now, you think sadly.

“I’m sorry,” she says in the rough yet soft voice of hers.  You nearly jump at the words.

“Why would you be sorry?” you ask.  

“Earlier.  You left with tears in your eyes.”

You sigh and cross over to Betty’s bed and sit gingerly on the edge.

“I upset you,” she continues and her eyes peek out from the fringe of her bangs.  And  _god_ she looks so incredibly young and vulnerable but something about her is thick with century’s old melancholia.  You feel almost sick as you stare at her because she is a paradox of the most painful kind.

“You didn’t upset me.  I just … let my emotions get the best of me is all.”

She nods once against her knees but her eyes continue to pierce you and you almost miss the predatory look she used to give you with that infuriating smirk.  Lust is so much better than lost.

“That person who was trying to help me said you cared about me.”

Your eyes are burning but you suppress it with a cough.

“I care about you very much Carmilla.  And I’m so… happy you’re alive.”

Her brow wrinkles and her eyes lower to the gleaming leather of her pants.

“Are you sure?”  And of all the times that Carmilla has mused to you about death this one hurts the most.

Without thinking you stand because if you don’t move or do  _something_ the tears will come again and you know that the both of you cannot handle you crying right now.

“I was… distraught when I thought you were dead Carmilla.” You take a careful step toward her and she does not flinch.  “I’m so incredibly relieved that you’re here.”

“But I’m not the same Carmilla that you knew.  I might never be the same Carmilla.”

You take another step toward her and you are standing over her, your knees barely touching the edge of the bed.  She slowly raises her head and it takes everything you have to not crush her into a hug and kiss the confusion and pain from her eyes.  

“You’re  _here_ ,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice even.  “That’s all I care about.”

 

 

///////

 

 

The sun has set and the only light in your room comes from her candles.  You’re in your usual flannel pajamas and tank top and you had given Carmilla a loose t-shirt and shorts.  She seems more at ease now although some of that rigidity still remains in her shoulders as she sits against the wall. Pensively she rests an elbow on a bent knee, distant and unavailable. 

Your body feels tired but you want to be wide awake.  It’s still a little unbelievable to you that the girl who you had mourned as dead is sitting across from you,  _alive_ and  _well._ You’re not exhausted from the sleepless nights of  muffled sobs into her shirts that smelled like smoke and lavender.  You’re tired now because you have to grieve for her in a new way.  

“I don’t remember you,” she says and the words hurt more than they should.

You respond with a wobbly smile as you discreetly tighten your grip on a plate you had been putting on the counter.

“It’s okay, Carmilla. Really.”

“I don’t remember you but,” and you turn and she is staring at you with an unfathomable expression.  She makes a soft noise and shakes her head.

Your heart is pounding in your ears as you place the plate gently on the linoleum of the counter.

“But?”

She doesn’t say anything and you think that maybe you imagined the whole exchange.  

“But I still feel something for you.”

“O-oh?”

Carmilla nods slowly and suddenly she is on her feet and she’s a step away from you and you realize that it’s exactly like when she had protected you from Will except this time you’re not quivering from fear but anticipation.  She swallows and you are almost charmed by how unsure of herself she seems.  

“Why do you make me feel this way? I don’t even remember  _you_.”

And you smile because there is almost a whine in her voice.  You reach forward and gently hold her wrist.  She doesn’t flinch at the contact but stares at your hand, a pout on her lips.  Carmilla is so incredibly like a child in this moment that you just want to brush her bangs to the side and kiss her forehead.  Instead you gently rub the back of her wrist once and savor the feeling.  You can finally feel the skin you have so ardently craved.  This hasn’t changed you think.  This body holds the mind of the Carmilla you had fallen for so painfully and completely.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember me,” you say after a long moment.  Her eyes snap toward yours.  “I will always care about you.”

She pulls from your touch and you try to steel your expression as best as you can.

“This isn’t fair.  I’m only a burden to you,” she whispers angrily, jaw clenched.  And you sigh and shake your head.

“The only thing unfair about this situation is the way you’re treating yourself Carmilla.  None of this is your fault.  If anything I should be thanking you.  You saved my life.  You saved all of our lives.  You’re a hero.”

Her face twists and she blurts out

“Not more of that heroic crap-” and then she shuts her mouth, forehead creased in confusion.  Your heart is pounding painfully in your chest because in that moment she had sounded so normal.

“Sorry, I don’t know where that came from,” she mutters, ducking her head.  And you cannot help yourself really.  So you reach forward and cupping a cheek you make her look at you.  

“We’ll get through this, Carmilla. I swear we will.”  She leans into the palm of your hand, practically nuzzling into it like a cat as her eyes flutter closed.  Suddenly she is pulling you closer and you’re so close to her that you can taste the sadness in her breath. You let your free hand grip her arm, rubbing slow circles into the exposed skin.  And you feel tears prickle your eyes.  Because she’s  _alive_ and it doesn’t matter how broken or hurt she is in this moment because Carmilla is back.  

She leans a bit forward, letting out a shaky breath and your foreheads are practically touching.  The proximity makes you positive that Carmilla can hear the rapid pulse in your wrist as she covers your hand with her own and you gasp a little because this is exactly what you had dreamed of.  Her holding you close, connected by hands and touch.  But it’s not right because Carmilla doesn’t even know who she is.  She doesnt’ remember a thing.  Not about you.  Not about her past.  She’s like a an empty worn vessel.  Carmilla has all of the scars but no memory of how she got them.  

“I,” she shakily breathes out, eyes still squeezed shut, “I don’t know you but my body does.”  You swallow and nod as your thumb catches a tear that trickles down her cheek.

“Carmilla…”

“I feel sad.  Why does this make me feel  _sad_?”

You just shake your head and press your foreheads together and she lets out a shuddery gasp but doesn’t move away.

“We’ll be okay,” you whisper and you’re not sure if you’re saying it to you or her at this point.  But it is in this moment that you let yourself forget about everything that happened as Carmilla collapses into your arms and you hold her so tightly to your chest that you’re practically melded as one.  And you can taste salt in your mouth as you realize you would look back at her no matter how badly it would destroy you.     

 

 

/////////

 

 

You somehow ended up on your bed with her head on your shoulder, your fingers playing with the curled ends of her hair.  She mumbles something into your shoulder but you can’t quite understand it.

“Sorry?” you ask, tilting your head to get a better look at her.

“… were we dating?”

The question takes the wind out of you and you slump against the wall behind you.  You don’t even know how to answer the question.  She shifts and she’s gazing at you earnestly, wetting her lips with her tongue.  And you wish you could tell her a definitive yes or no.  But you two have never been able to define yourselves as simply black or white.  Your relationship has too many grays and you do not know where to begin.

“We… I…”

“I know what year it is and I know that we are at an institution called Silas University, but I can’t recall if I have a girlfriend,” she says dryly with a bitter smile.  It’s the most she has looked like herself since you’ve seen her and it saddens you that Carmilla looks like herself when she’s brooding.  

“This isn’t your fault.”

“That doesn’t make  _this_  any better.”

You sigh and she lets you brush her bangs to the side.  It’s strange that you finally have the intimacy you have so desperately craved with her.  But it feels bittersweet because she doesn’t purr into the contact with a throaty  _cupcake._ Instead she leans into the contact like a drowning person clutching at a life vest. 

“Why don’t we go to bed, Carmilla? Maybe things will be better in the morning.”

She nods and pulls away from you.  You ignore the pang in your chest at the lack of contact, standing and crossing over to the other side of the room.  You lie down and turn and face the wall.  Neither of you sleeps much. 

 

 

////////

 

 

The next day when you wake up she is sitting in bed leafing through a thick tome.  It’s Nietzche and you suddenly understand what he meant by hope being one of the worst torments of man.  

She must feel you watching her because she raises her head and god how can she look so achingly familiar but still so painfully different?

“Did I wake you?” she asks with too gentle concern, forehead creased with worry.  And you shake you head as you get out of bed and rush to the restroom.  You fumble as you turn on the shower and let the noise of the water soften the sound of your tears.

You know she heard though because when you walk out of the bathroom her shoulders tense as she refuses to look at you

 

///////

 

 

It’s strange watching Carmilla interact with her own space as a stranger.  During reading week while you study she sits on her bed and reads, only pausing to take swigs from a mug of blood you give her.  She’s as still as a statue and you don’t even know what to say to her as you coexist like strangers.  That unfamiliar intimacy you had shared the first night has disappeared in favor of stilted conversations and long painful silences.  

Sometimes you catch her looking at you but she never holds the gaze, instead flushing and looking away.  You wish that for once she would stare back.  

Laf and Perry check up on you.  Perry always has a plate of brownies and is delighted that Carmilla enjoys them.  She even smiled once when she ate one and said thank you, flabbergasting all of you.

“Was I very rude… before?” she asks in confusion, brownie crumbs inelegantly on the side of her mouth.  

“Oh no sweetie, you weren’t ah rude per say.  Just very… forthright with your opinions!”

“Blunt,” Laf offers as they exchange an amused glance with you.

It’s only when you realize that Carmilla is waiting for you to say something that you respond.

“You didn’t have time for things like thank you and your welcomes,” you say with a little smile. 

“I was busy?” she asks, tilting her head like an inquisitive puppy.

You wonder what it would do to her if you told her how busy Carmilla had been over the centuries, luring girls to their demise and then being trapped in the earth for seventy years.  Instead you just shrug.

“You had a lot of reading to do.”

 

 

///////

 

 

“Thank you for walking me back, Danny,” you say over your shoulder as you take your keys from your thick jacket.  You’d just walked back from your usual late night pie snack.  Things between the two of you are not totally what they used to be but it isn’t so strained anymore.  And she promised she would never throw a tomato at your head again.  

“No problem, Hollis.”

Your hand is on the knob but you can’t quite make yourself turn it.  Carmilla is in there, most likely reading.  You’d like to think you’ve made progress with her but honestly the longest conversation you had with her had been why you were filming with the web cam on your desk.  

“Laura.”

You turn and Danny has a very conflicted look on her face.  She sighs and stuffs her hands into her pockets as she rocks to the balls of her feet.  Finally she looks at you and she seems resigned.

“How are things with you and Carmilla?”

You shrug and try to not look at how clenched Danny’s jaw is.

“I’m just grateful she’s alive honestly.  Anything else is a perk.”

“That’s good.  You… you know I’m here for you, right? If you need someone to talk to about your feelings or whatever.”

And you sigh and look at Danny thinking that you had almost loved her.  You don’t regret falling for Carmilla but there is something beautiful in the earnestness of Danny’s voice, the steadfastness of her loyalty.  Thoughtlessly you wrap your arms around her waist with a sniffle.

“Thanks, Danny,” you mumble into her chest.  Warm arms cover your shoulders and you feel her bend over to whisper gentle words in your hair.

“It’ll be okay, Laura.  She’ll remember everything in the end.”

She holds you like this for a few minutes as you try to collect yourself.  But then you pull away and give her a brave smile.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you around, Hollis.”

You nod just once and enter your room.  You’re pulling your scarf wrapped warmly around your neck  as you glance at Carmilla who is still reading.  You try not to sigh as you shrug out of your winter coat and pull off your boots.  It’s not until you start making cocoa that you realize Carmilla has been on the same page of her book for the past three minutes.  

“Is the reading pretty dense?” you ask conversationally as you pull out a packet of instant mix from a box.

She says nothing, just slams her book shut and slowly clenches and unclenches her jaw.

“Carm?” 

“Who was that at the door?” 

You frown at how flat her voice is.  

“Danny.  Do you remember her? She was the really tall red head.  Carried you in and rescued you from that pit.”

“Ah. Her.”

She looks up from her book.

“You smell like her,” she says with utter distaste.  And you break into a smile because you realize now why Carmilla seems more broody and annoyed than usual.  You hide your grin as you stir your cocoa and try not to giggle.  You grab your usual Tardis mug and cross over to her side of the room.  For a second she doesn’t look up but her stubbornness seems to be compromised by curiosity.  

“Would you like a sip of my cocoa? You always liked the stuff even though you always complained it was too sweet.”

Carmilla frowns as she gently takes the mug from your fingers.  She tips the mug toward her and tries to take a sip but some of the cocoa escapes from the sides of the strange square cup.  She hisses in irritation and you let out a giggle but rush over to get a towel and help dab at her stained shirt and dignity.  

“How do you drink out of that thing?” she growls crossly as she places her book on your pillow, letting you dab at her collarbone.  

“Practice.”  You grin at her and it is then that you realize your proximity.  It seems she does too because she reaches forward and carefully tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.  Her eyes drop to somewhere lower than your eyes and you shake because of course she has this effect on you, even without her “seduction eyes.” 

“Carmilla,” you say because it is the only thing you can think of with her smoky sweet smell filling your nose and pretty rose bud mouth curled into the barest hint of a smile.

“Your heart beat didn’t beat this fast when you were with her,” she whispers as she drops her hand into her lap.  You try to cover your blush by fumbling with the towel you had been using.  You’re about to turn away but a cool hand grabs at your wrist.

“Laura.” Her voice quivers as she licks her lips, eyes narrowing as she stares straight into your eyes. “She… I mean I wrote annotations in all of these books.  And it seems I wrote many things in several different languages.”

“Such as?”  

Her brow creases and she looks distantly past your shoulder with a sad smile.  When she focuses back on you she releases your wrist and rises from the bed, her shoulder brushing yours.  

“Where are you going?” you ask as she pulls her hair in a bun, stuffing her feet into boots.  

“I wrote down so many things about stars. I want to go look at them for awhile,” she says matter of factly.  

“By yourself?”

“Why are you offering to come with me?”

Your hand clenches around the rag as you slowly nod your head.

“It will be cold.”

You roll your eyes.

“I was raised in this weather, Carmilla.  My mother is-was Austrian.”  

“You told me this before?”

Shrugging a shoulder you brush past her and grab your coat again.  Your try to hide your smile when you watch her try to take another sip from your Tardis mug and think better of it.  Finally you’re dressed for the cold snow outside. 

“Let’s go.”

Carmilla frowns and glances out the window.  She crosses her arms over her chest and mumbles something too softly for you to hear.

“I’m sorry what was that?”

“Where did I usually go to see stars?” she growls out, a pout on her face. 

And she looks so much like herself that you don’t whether to laugh or cry.  You settle for reaching for her hand and gently tugging her toward the door.

“Let’s find some place together.”

 

 

////////

 

 

You can see your breath in wisps of smoke and it looks like a burnt offering.  And maybe this is a sacrifice of sorts you think as Carmilla sits next to you eyes wide and bright, reflecting only the millions of stars crackling in the cold night.  The smile of wonder on her face makes you realize that in this moment she is really only eighteen.  Her voice has no gravelly shake of knowledge of centuries of life and her eyes aren’t heavy with things she has seen.  For a crazy moment you feel willing to give up the past you had with her in order to protect her bright eyed future.  

“Isn’t it beautiful,” she whispers.  

“It is,” you say, looking right at Carmilla.       

“I feel like I could get drunk just by looking at them.  It makes me think of all the lives people have lead.  All the people we’ve met-”

You frown because those words sound so  _familiar_ and then Carmilla lets out a pained moan, slumping forward with her hands on her head.

“Carmilla!” you cry grabbing her by her shoulders.  She’s shaking now and you cannot fathom losing her again.  You know your touches are useless but you only know of how desperate you are to save her from disappearing from you again.  Are your frenzied cries tainted with selfishness because you don’t know what you will do if she leaves you again?

And then the quivering ceases and she slumps to the side, her head landing on your lap.

“C-carm?” you whisper.  You lean forward trying to hear her breath when a hand firmly grips the back of your neck and you are staring into eyes that have seen centuries of life.  Words feel heavy on your tongue but the tears fall easily.  She wordlessly brushes away the drops with her other hand, rubbing soothing circles on the back of your neck with the other.  A crooked smile curls her lips.

“Cupcake,” she says and everything shifts and tips in the right direction.

 

 

////////

 

 

“How different was I?” she asks quietly into the back of your neck.  You returned back to your room in a puff of smoke and had curled up on your bed without a second thought.  She had brushed away your tears and held you close as you sobbed about how much you missed her.  And when she had said I was here the whole time you had laughed.

You touch the arm wrapped around your waist and lean more into her embrace.

“You were still sad but I think you were more upset because you couldn’t remember anything.”

“You think I’m sad?” she breathes into the downy hairs that escaped your bun at the base of your neck. 

With a sigh you turn around in her arms and stare at her.  She cracks a smile at you and you run a finger down the side of her face, tracing the sharp line of her jaw, the gentle tapering of her chin.  

“You’ve lived for so long,” you say with the reverence of the devout.  “You’ve seen so much, Carmilla.”

“So you pity me?”

“No,” you say as you shift closer.  You can practically taste the sweetness of her breath as you feel her grip tighten around you.

“I admire you.  I respect you.  I care for you.  I could never pity you.”

And it is then that warmth blossoms against your lips and your gasp is like a prayer as you tangle your hands in Carmilla’s thick curly hair.  It’s gentle and sweet, so unlike what you thought it would be like to kiss her.  You expected harsh and passionate.  Instead there is something careful about the way her lips press against yours.  When you break apart she stares down at you with stars shining in her eyes.

“Laura,” she says and it scares you a little because there is something painfully binding and eternal in that voice.  

“Are you sure you want this?” you ask without thinking, your hands loosening from their grip on her neck and hair.  And she chuckles indulgently leaning forward again.    

“You brushed all of my sins from the ground with one sweep of your hand,” she whispers into your neck, your forehead, your lips and you moan her name again because Carmilla is kissing you like you’re holy.

You arch into her touch and think that memory is all relative when the body knows what the mind may forget.  But with your hands gripping her tightly you feel like this is a tether to her and you feel incredibly safe and secure in her warmth.

And you think Carmilla feels it too because even though she is sharpened with pain, she kisses you with the word salvation whispered into your skin.


End file.
